the fire we make
by mostlyghostly
Summary: Nico's next door neighbor is a moron.


Ok so it just so happens to be 2 o'clock in the morning, and it's not like Nico gets a lot of sleep in the first place so the fact that his idiot next door neighbor chose this night to get up to whatever he's gotten up to is really starting to tick him off. The noise of banging pots and small yelps is nothing new, the guy is an idiot, as stated before, but the disruption doesn't usually continue so late (early?) into the night (day?) and Nico is _tired_. He's spent the past two weeks working almost obsessively on his dissertation and in between stressing himself into mild panic attacks and barely eating he's also been binge watching America's Next Top Model and politely yodeling to Jessie J because he is both trying to get his degree and a good neighbor. He's considerate. He knows that other people go to sleep at 11 every night and wake up at 7 and like to enjoy pancake breakfasts and watch cartoons in shame before slumping off to a job that they don't really hate but sort of do, and that's _fine_. He totally respects the shit out of people with things to do and that's why he doesn't screech his guilty pleasure inspirational music at the top of his lungs and that's why he doesn't vocalize every inane rant that pops into his mind because it would be annoying and he's _considerate._ Unlike the aforementioned neighbor with little to no brain cells. It'd be nice if he treated Nico with the same respect. He's been tossing and turning for almost two hours and when he'd gotten into bed a little after 11, Nico had been sure this would be the night he'd catch up on a good chunk of his missed sleep and Hazel would stop giving him that simpering old lady look that made him feel guilty and annoyed at the same time.

Nico sighs and settles in for the even longer haul as he listens to his neighbor's noise. It seems like the guy purposefully stomps wherever he walks because the echo of his footsteps reverberates through the walls, and he must be one of those annoying white noise people because his TV volume is turned up high as hell. Nico knew it was a mistake moving into a building with so many young people, and his stepmother had told him as such, he can't believe the one time he didn't blindly follow her instructions he ended up ruining his own life. He mourns his lost hours of sleep as something abruptly drops next door.

There is a sudden knocking on his door.

"Hey! Hey! Hey- yeah okay it's late sorry- hey I have a real problem and I really need your help! Please open up! Are you awake- I'm really scared please help!" and okay Nico has spoken to the guy next door before but he's never heard him sound like this and he's never once knocked on Nico's door so truly, the boy doesn't know how to react. His body sort of freezes in shock as he hesitates in his scheduled rolling over and pillow punching and his mind races at a million miles a second.

" _Please_!" the guys calls again and this makes Nico spring up. He's only in boxers and a t-shirt but he's sure it won't matter because the guy is banging on his door like this is a real emergency and he'd hate to be the shitty neighbor who sort of just stood by while his building mates got burglarized and/or murdered. Nico drags himself towards his door as quickly as his tired body will allow him and yanks it open unceremoniously.

The light in the hallway is dim, thank god, but the man standing in front of him is obviously as white as a ghost and Nico almost feels sorry for him before remembering that he actually wanted to get some sleep and is very annoyed again. He sighs, "What the _hell_ is going on?" running his hand through his hair.

"Hey dude I know we've never really spoken or anything like that and I'm really sorry about this- It's super late," Nico scoffs and nods, "but I just need to know if you have any knowledge on how to stop a _grease fire_. I'm pretty sure- I'm positive really- that water does not actually help the situation-," he rambles with wildly gesticulating hands and Nico's eyes get progressively wider and wider as he does so.

"What the _fuck_ are you some kind of _idiot_?" Nico demands, whirling around into his own apartment and lurching towards his kitchen. It's too dark to see anything really well but what the fuck he knows where he keeps his damn baking soda and he knows that it's what you're supposed to use to put out a grease fire and he also knows to not start grease fires at 2 in the morning. He hates his neighbor.

Heart pounding, he returns with the little silver container Hazel and Frank had given him as a housewarming present, and elbows past his fucking moron of a neighbor. He's acutely aware of the fact that his legs are feeling a little too much breeze to make for a comfortable first meeting with anyone, but that's beside the point. His neighbor's door is wide open and the acrid scent of burning _something_ is flowing freely from it. Nico fights the urge to roll his eyes as he runs inside of the flat while undoing the latch on the container and trying to calmly assess the situation. The fire is still contained to one pan, thankfully, but it raging pretty nicely and any pyromaniac would be pretty proud of the site in front of him. The gas is still turned on so Nico reaches for the knob to turn it off first, burning the tips of his fingers but getting the task done. Next, he looks around for something to put on his hand while he covers it up. The best thing he can find is a shirt and a thick glass plate, so with one arm he dumps his whole container of baking soda into the pan and with the other he covers the pan with the plate. He's already sweating spectacularly, and any hopes he had of getting a nice good night of sleep have been shattered. Nico is very good at accepting his fate.

Thirty seconds later he's still breathing a little heavily, but neighbor guy has finally appeared and is looking aptly guilty. His dark hair is a tousled mess and his orange t-shirt has holes littering the collar in a way that could look dirty but instead just looks well worn, as if he's had the shirt for a really long time and for some reason that makes Nico's heart hurt.

He glares spitefully, "Nice meeting you."

"Um. Yeah, you too," his neighbor says sheepishly, looking down at his feet for a moment, "Could I ask you one more favor?"

"What more than saving your life could I do?" Nico scoffs, already making his way around neighbor guy and towards the door. The man's bare toes are wiggling against the hardwood like he's either cold or nervous and considering his kitchen was just on fire, Nico doubts it's the latter.

"Could you not tell our landlady? She threatened to kick me out for this last time and I don't really have anywhere else to go. And even if I did I wouldn't _want_ to go there; I've been living here for a while, y'know, this is like my home or whatever and a few fires shouldn't mean I have to leave-," he starts babbling, still looking shy and anxious. Nico stops and looks at him, for real, and he shakes his head like Hazel would if she could see him now.

"That's exactly what it _should_ mean, but sure, I won't tell her," he promises.

**  
The next morning, after a good night of no sleep, Nico emerges from his cocoon of blankets to go brush his teeth. Looking in the mirror he notices that the dark circles under his eyes are even worse and he knows for a fact that Hazel is going to throw a fit, but he just shrugs and keeps moving. He doesn't have class until one, which means he could go back to sleep for a while, because he neighbor seems to be out doing something that isn't disrupting his entire life, but Nico isn't really tired. He's dressed and semi presentable though, so he takes the rickety old elevator down to the ground and walks the two blocks to his favorite coffee shop. It's always full of students and gentrifiers with ugly beards, but Nico doesn't really mind. It's where he met Piper and Jason, and even when neither of them are working he knows someone behind the register will know his order. Indie music always plays softly in the background, cool enough to be unknown and not distracting, but not obnoxious enough to really appeal to the art hoe crowd. Nico loves it.

Today though, he walks in and sheds his bomber jacket and is about to walk right to his favorite couch and wait for someone to take his order when a hand claps him on the shoulder.

"Hey neighbor!" the owner of the hand greets, and while his voice wavers a little, Nico can tell that he wasn't like dared to come talk to him or anything. Nico nods slightly.

"Yes, I am your neighbor," he says warily. The guy smiles, now looking less frazzled and scared, though still extremely attractive. Nico nearly swoons despite himself.

"And boy am I grateful for that. You saved me last night."

Nico rolls his eyes, "I saved myself too. If your apartment burned so would mine," he says, trying to be nonchalant even though he knows for a fact his pale skin is burning an embarrassing red.

"Well the least I can do to thank you for saving both of our asses is buy you a coffee, right? Two espresso shots and a chocolate biscotti?" he asks, looking up with big green eyes through long sweeping lashes. Nico's stomach flips a little, his hand twtiches, and he gives a bewildered smile.

"Yeah. That's my order."

"I'm Percy Jackson," Percy Jackson grins brightly, his entire face lighting up with the force of his mischevious smile.

"Nico di Angelo."

"Well," Percy laughs, "Nico di Angelo, fire putter outter and biscotti lover, it's very nice to meet you."


End file.
